My Youth Encounter with a Death Note is Wrong, as I Expected
by Kurogyo
Summary: What would happen if everyone's favorite cynic, Hachiman, found a Death Note? This is my take on what would happen.


I hate youth. I have already stated this on several occasions, but I feel it needs to be stated again. I hate youth.

It is full of lies and hypocrisy, fueled by self-deception. People say that youth is a wonderful thing, but that is a lie. They say that their mistakes were just part of youth, but they still make room to condemn the mistakes of other. They ignore all the evils of youth, sugarcoating it and dressing it up in a nice box.

I hate youth. And I find that I am in an especially foul mood this morning.

I was in front of the school building. As I was moving my way towards that fine establishment of youth, I noticed an odd looking notebook on the ground. Bending over I saw that on the cover were written the words "Death Note."

What is this, a joke? And wait... what is this feeling? Deja Vu? No... it more like a "haven't I seen this before," feeling. Like seriously, wasn't there a manga were just this thing happened? And wasn't it suppose to be after school and not before it?

As I was thinking in such a manner that would surely coincide with the thoughts of a crazed person, I remembered that I was going to be late for school. I put the notebook away and rushed to class.

It was lunch/recess break and I was heading to the roof of the school. I stepped out into the sunlight. Looking to my sides and also to the area above me, I was satisfied that I was alone.

Peering over the side of the building, I could see my classmates gathered in the school's courtyard. Forming group, chatting nonsense, and generally wasting their time, reveling in the lie of youth.

To me, they are socialites. Yes, that's it. The name suits them perfectly. Spending so much of their time socializing in their own closed off groups, trying to convince themselves that they are doing something constructive.

I sat down to enjoy my solitude. Enjoy the silence, as they say. I held that notebook from earlier in my hand. Opening it, I saw that something was written on the first page, a set of rules it would seem. It read thus:

1. The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

2. This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.

3. If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.

4. After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds. (1)

What would surely appear to be a grin of pure evil formed on my face, as dark thoughts filled my mind. Standing up, I looked down upon the courtyard. Holding the notebook in my hand, I started writing in it with a pen I happened to have on me.

Looking down at the courtyard and up at the notebook again, I felt quite satisfied with what I had written.

"_**Youth**_"

"_**Socialites**_"

I decided to leave the notebook on the ground as I left school (I liked to imagine it freaking a few people out). As I was about to put the notebook away, a sudden feeling came over me that the notebook was truly legit.

Seriously, what is this feeling? It feels like someone wasn't satisfied with how I reacted to the notebook and decided to forcibly make me acknowledge it as real. This isn't even remotely a romantic comedy now.

I held the notebook in front of my once again, and started contemplating what I should do with it.

I don't really hate anyone in particular. I mean sure, there have been specific people who have hurt me. But they are just a single person lost in that mass of socialites. In fact, I don't remember any of their names, forgotten the faces of a majority of them, and most I have probably forgotten completely.

But what if I could change the world. If I could expose the lies of youth.

I looked at the notebook intently, and then ripped it in half. "If it doesn't work when you try and force it, just give up." (2) That is my motto. And I doubt trying to force the world to change would ever work. Besides, what type of person would it make me if I was willing to kill?

As I headed back downstairs to class, planning to dispose of that notebook, I couldn't help but feel that this encounter was wrong. No, rather that it wasn't what most people would expect to happen. I guess I could say that my youth encounter with a Death Note was wrong, as I expected.

The End

* * *

(1) Taken directly from the Death Note series.

(2) Taken directly from the "My Youth Romantic Comedy is Wrong, as I Expected" light novel.


End file.
